I made a king, one morning bright
who didn’t even last the night.
He wouldn’t rule,
he couldn’t fight.
The people burned my king alive.
So as it were next morning I
implored the people, “Tell me why.”
They wouldn’t look,
they couldn’t lie.
They said that kings were meant to die.
And is the truth as people say?
Are all kings meant to fade away?
I wouldn’t know.
I couldn’t say.
But I shall send no king today.
Instead, inclined to make a deal,
I listened to the public will.
They think I won’t,
I surely will
tomorrow send someone greater still.